Here
by Make A Shadow
Summary: AU: Bonnie's making her living as a fortune teller somewhere in Georgia, but one stubborn customer is making it very hard for her to do her job.
1. 1

**Author's Note:** Okay, so maybe this one's a new idea. Not something that's been gathering dust. What can I say? _I feel inspired_. This is an AU (let's be real, that's all I dabble in). Imagine Bonnie's paternal family took her in after Gram's death in s1, so she lived far away from all the drama that ensued in Mystic Falls. This takes place when she's about 22 or so, and a certain Parker son might have just escaped a Prison World...

(if it helps, picture Bonnie in the beginning of s7 + Kai post-merge scruff)

* * *

 **HERE  
** _1/3_

The sign says " _Tilly's_ " but Tilly is long gone. Walked out about a year ago and left the shop to Bonnie. There were whispers it was a long time coming. The newest edition, a cheeky college graduate at the time, had become a big draw. Customers preferred Bonnie's no-nonsense approach to Tilly's theatrics.

Besides, Bonnie is never wrong. Never.

 _Tilly's_ offers lots. Tarot card, crystal ball, and palm readings. They sell crystals and oils, votive candles and incense. Some literature dabbles in deities while others span the spiritual. And they get all manner of customers. Locals, snow bunnies in the south for the winter, skittish teenagers, those in the throes of a mid-life crisis, skeptics, the curious and the curiouser. They stand housed in a retrofitted single family home, which locals claim to be haunted and Tilly never debunked the rumor. It isn't, though. Bonnie would know.

But whether they were new or returning but not yet acquainted with Bonnie, customers always ask: "Are you Tilly?"

She manages, though. Never fights to make a sale. Never forces a reading on anyone who doesn't want one. That's one of her rules. She has three.

She's finishing up with a regular when she hears the bells on the front door jangle. Bidding Frankie adieu, though she knows she'll see the man in a month like clockwork, she picks up the hem of her caramel skirt, slips around the curtain partitioning the back bedrooms which serve as "offices", and is greeted with the back of a male. Tall, slender, and young, she can tell. He's dressed like a college coed - striped t-shirt, khaki cargo shorts, and Converses. He's admiring an autographed poster on the wall of a woman in a headwrap so intently that he doesn't notice her entrance.

"That was an gag gift for Tilly's thirtieth birthday," she speaks up. He whirls around to face her, revealing stormy blue eyes and a fresh face. Skeptic. That's how she pegs him. She can always tell.

She steps forward, her bare feet toeing the hardwood floors. The airy fabric of her skirt swishes as she moves and doesn't rest when she stops at his side. "Lots of people thought she was the real deal. Some still do, despite everything."

"Who's Miss Cleo?"

Bonnie frowns at him, at his sincerity. Is he serious?

Frankie ambles from the back, coughing into his fist. Bonnie's smile is sweet as she waves the heavyset man out the door. The new customer jumps at the other man's presence, or rather the sound coming from him, but Bonnie is ill at ease. She has to be. It's a part of her act.

The guy turns back to her. "What's his damage?"

" _That_ is none of your business. Not every path is meant to intersect." Bonnie steps away, rounds the counter with the register, and peeks into the kitchen, their break room. Empty. "Greta?"

"She stepped outside. Head on collision right in front of the shop. I don't think anyone's hurt too badly, but, boy, was it nasty."

She rushes to the front door and out to the wrap-around porch. A green truck had indeed run straight into a silver compact car. Her co-worker Greta flips her silky, black hair over her shoulder as she flirts with a paramedic. Packed muscles and golden hair, he's totally falling for it, having completely disregarded the comatose figure on the stretcher.

"Shit..." Bonnie mutters under her breath. _Tilly's_ is situated on the curve of a country road. Those leaving the driveway have a good view of coming and going traffic, but the same can't be said for those trying to visit. She's fought with the owner of the overgrown plot of land across the street but he refuses to cooperate, despite the safety risks. An accident like this was inevitable.

The guy steps beside her, leans against a pillar.

"Since traffic is a nightmare at the moment, how about a reading? Doesn't look like I'm going anywhere soon."

He's right. The road is a major artery in and out of the city and cars are at a standstill on both sides. Greta holds down the fort when she does her readings, but she's clearly preoccupied.

"What kind of reading did you have in mind?"

"Whatever kind _you_ give."

When she looks up at him, he wears a tight grin with mischief in his eyes. Okay, massive skeptic and awful flirt. She's dealt with worse.

Bonnie goes back inside with the guy trailing and she locks the door. Business first. "We have a 'half now, the rest after' policy."

"What if I don't like my fortune?"

"You do realize I can't change your future? I only tell it. The deposit is for my time, in case something happens rendering us incapable of completing the session."

"Such as?"

"Medical reasons, hell, high water… Take your pick."

He squints at her. "Is this one of those places that offers a happy ending? Because I gotta say, I'm not here for that."

"Good, because we don't offer that."

He considers, or pretends to. She can already tell he's made up his mind. Digging in his pocket, he roots for crumpled bills and change. She ignores the lint he deposits onto the counter and puts the down payment in the register.

"Follow me..."

Beyond the curtain, the mood changes. Red hues and dark furniture. The air has a sweet scent to it. Bergamot, maybe. It's also warmer, a full ten degrees, so on the way to her office Bonnie sheds her leather jacket. She can feel him, watching her back and shoulders ripple, trailing his eyes down her slim shoulders. This, too, is a part of her act.

Her office was once the master bedroom. It has the most space yet all it contains is two chairs. No tables, or crystal balls, or anything. Nothing remotely mystical. Just two folding chairs and a plush carpet with Asian influences stretching to the corners of the room.

This guy follows the same script every new customer recites. He hangs back at the doorway to ask, "What is this?"

Bonnie lets her jacket hang over the back of her chair and sits. "This is where the magic happens," she says plainly with a hint of sarcasm. "Close the door."

He does and she thinks that's good. This is the part where the skittish become more so, the skeptics with no follow through back out. He sits in the chair facing her, their knees inches from touching. His eyes flitter to the black-out curtains over the windows, the dark walls which could be purple or could be maroon, and to the sole red bulb dangling above their heads.

"I bet this scares all the kiddies at Halloween."

"And the middle-aged business men in the middle of May, too." She clears her throat. "I have three rules."

"I've never been good with rules."

There are always the scrappy ones who have to have a rebuttal for everything. She ignores him. "Three things are going to happen. I will touch you three places. All above the belt. I will ask you one question. And then I will kiss you. That's my method. That's how this works."

He sucks in a sharp intake of air. "Just one thing. You can't touch me."

"If you're a germophobe, everything is done very sanitarily. I've got gloves, if you like."

"I'm fine with germs. I just can't have you touch me."

"Why's that?"

He hums, doesn't meet her eyes. "I have my reasons."

She leans back in her chair. This is why they have their half/half policy. "If I can't touch you, I can't do my reading."

"Come on, Bonnie. I have faith in you." He grins, and she'd be remiss if she didn't notice his usage of her name, which she never gave him.

"What's your name, stranger?" He chews on this before telling her. Kai. "Just Kai?"

"Just Kai. Like Cher."

"Tell me, _Just Kai_ , what if I did palm readings? I'd still have to touch you. Tarot, we'd be touching the same deck of cards."

"I told you, it's not about germs. But can we go back to the part where you said you kiss your customers?"

"Clients. And yes, I do. It's part of my-"

"Your method, right. I got that. You mind explaining that method to me? Particularly the kissing part."

"I explain as I do the reading. Since I can't do the reading, you're shit outta luck."

"Well, shit."

They stare at each other for a while. The bulb sways, casting shadows and bringing them to light. She watches him dissect her, take in her shoulder length, chocolate waves, her garnet camisole and probably how she wears nothing underneath it, the way she has her palms pressed together and tucked between her thighs. She does the same. Evaluates his clean cropped hair, the stubble littering his jawline, how relaxed he is, slouching against his own wooden chair. How big he is, his presence.

She's a small woman, curvy for 5'2" but still petite. He's steady over six feet and muscular, however unassuming, but he's filled with boyish energy. She was assaulted by his aura before she first spoke. She can tell it's taking a great deal of control for him to sit still, stay quiet. She knows it's outside his norm.

Her toes rub back and forth against the carpet, waiting. She's technically been paid for her time. She could sit here and stare at him for the next twenty minutes but there could be actual customers she could actually be helping.

Just when she's about to voice this, he slaps his thighs. The noise echoes throughout the vacant room. "Same time next week, then?"

He leaves her with her jaw slack and an odd chill in the air. By the time she's shaken off her stupor and returned to the front of the store, he's already in his car and revving the engine. By the looks of his bumper as he pulls out onto the now clear highway, he's got a car he couldn't possibly afford to drive unless his parents bought it for him.

Greta's already launching into gab about the cute paramedic Tom, whose number she snagged, and Bonnie shakes her head.

"Spoiled, college brat," she mutters before joining Greta in the kitchen for well-deserved cups of coffee.


	2. 2

**Author's Note:** This baby fic came to mind in one fell swoop, so far be it from me to belabor the moment. My apologies for not making it clearer. Bonnie is very much a witch, like we saw from her during the first season. She just relies on her magic a little differently than we're used to. Girl gotta make a livin'! Also, thank you, thank you for the reviews. I resumed posting because Bonkai is that itch you just gotta scratch, but the feedback has been lovely. I genuinely appreciate it!

Also, I'm probably hopping on the train last minute as it passes the junction, but if you have not read **_pennytree_** 's BK fics ( _Common Curtsey, Tis the Season,_ and _Bound_...) do yourself a favor over this upcoming long weekend and gorge! I, myself, will be tackling _The Charade_ very soon. ;)

* * *

 **HERE**  
 _2/3_

As promised, Kai returns the following week and the weeks after that. Same day, same time. Now, however, he won't shut up. Touches framed portraits, picks up dragon figurines, and uses an amethyst crystal like he's trying to hypnotize himself. He even makes acquaintances with Frankie, the plump man who works in finance and has a real hankering for knowing his future. Specifically when and how he's going to die. When Bonnie reminds Kai "not every path is _meant_ to intersect", he rolls his eyes.

"Well, what can I say? I like being in the driver's seat."

Greta finds him weird but charming. Bonnie doesn't give much sway to her opinions, though. The woman's been working at Tilly's longer, trying to recuperate after a bad, bad relationship to a worse man. Daddy issues, mommy issues, trust and control issues. Paranoia, violence, the list goes on. Though the women are distant cousins, Bonnie never understood how Greta turned her back on her own family for that man. Then again, a good chunk of Bonnie's family is dead.

Every visit ends the same. Kai pays half for a reading, refuses to let Bonnie touch him, and then leaves vowing to return.

"It's not a _total_ waste of money. He is paying the deposit," Greta says. After another failed reading with Kai, Bonnie's shrugged into her leather jacket and grabs a water from the fridge. Greta hunkers over the counter next to the cash register and flips through a magazine.

"It's a waste of my time. And energy. I swear, that man is a volcano overdue for an eruption. If you could feel him the way I feel him, Gret—"

"I get it, Bon. You were under the tutelage of the great Sheila Bennett before her tragic demise. Your gut is never wrong. You know else says her gut is never wrong? _Olivia Pope_. And we both know how wrong she's been proven."

Bonnie rolls her eyes. The women make it their Thursday night ritual to climb on Bonnie's couch, pop popcorn, drink cheap red wine, and watch primetime television. Even when the whiplash of their favorite protagonist's relationships leave them rubbing their necks, they're hooked.

She leans against the doorway right when Greta looks over her shoulder at her. "Face it, cousin. You are just as interested in him as he is in you."

"I wouldn't say interested…"

"Intrigued. Confused. Perplexed. Whatever way you dice it, it's like putting together a puzzle without having first seen the picture on the box." She drops her head back down in her magazine. "Besides, he's totally got a crush. Notice how he never takes me up on my crystal ball offer. No touching involved whatsoever."

That, she had. She'll often find Kai and Greta deep in conversation after she finishes with a client. Sometimes they talk about all the places they've traveled. Sometimes he gives her boy advice, like, " _Greta Martin_ , if you really like this Tom Avery guy, you gotta tell him. Forget that Nicholas character. What's the point in life if you're not being honest?" which is a heaping pile of irony. But, no, he never lets her give him a reading. He'll only have Bonnie – if just to thwart her.

And, yeah, maybe interest is the right word. Her readings tell a lot about the person in front of her. Even things they might not know about themselves or secrets they don't want her to know. Every time Kai leaves, she's left less than sated.

What the hell could he be hiding?

 **...**

She's in line for coffee before she heads to work when she feels someone step behind her. Towering, masculine, and wild energy hit her. Engulf her because she's so close. She thought she knew what she wanted to order but this person's presence eviscerates her train of thought.

"Why, Bonnie, you wear jeans? The illusion is _shattered_."

She sighs deeply and doesn't bother to turn around. "Are you stalking me?"

"What? No. This is a small town."

"You call Atlanta _small_?"

"When you've seen the world the way I've seen it, every town is a small town."

Again, as she tries to focus on her order, his energy pushes at her, through her, and she can't pin it down. He's standing very near to her, closer than the average coffee house customer. Closer than someone who will not allow her to touch him. He's doing this on purpose, she decides. He's got to know the effect he has on her. He's just got to.

The barista calls for the next customer in line, and she freezes. What does she order? It's the same thing every time, but she can't call it to mind. Fluidly, Kai steps to her side and grins. "Two black coffees, hot, one sugar each." He slaps down a bill that is way more than their order and stuffs the change in the tip jar. Then he wags his brows at Bonnie, who restarts. Taking the hint, she slides to the order pick-up queue.

"So what exactly are you?"

She furrows her brow. "Excuse me?" It's a question she's gotten before. People say her green eyes don't fit her brown complexion, or her complexion doesn't match the texture of her hair. She's used to the vague assumptions, but she still doesn't like it.

That's not what Kai meant, though. "Fortune teller, clairvoyant, medium? Witch?" He tacks that last one on there and it feels suspicious. Like he's fishing for something.

She shrugs. "I've just got a good read on people."

"Greta says you're from Virginia. Falls Church, Fells Church? _Mystic_ Falls, yeah, there. You visit often?"

With a disbelieving scoff, she throws a glare at him. "Why are you talking to Greta about me?"

"Because you won't."

He dips backwards and drops into a chair at a table nearby. The line's not moving, something about a malfunction with the brand new espresso machine, so she rotates to face him. Folds her arms across her chest, the elbows of her leather jacket crinkling. She just so happens to be positioned between his lanky, outstretched legs covered by cuffed jeans. She's caged is more like it.

"What do you want to know?"

"So many things." He scratches under the collar of his shirt. An old t-shirt of some 80s hair band. "Like, why are you playing palm reader at some roadside sideshow in the middle of nowhere when you're Sheila Bennett's prodigious granddaughter?"

She steels, defensiveness prickling her skin. "Not a palm reader, and you don't get to talk about my Grams like you knew her."

"Oh, I knew her better than you think I do." He's telling the truth, and for a moment her stomach wrenches. If she could change one thing from her past, it'd be the events that led to her grandmother's death. Whenever she comes across someone who knew her, she feels a war in her belly. A fierce protective stance between that person and the fearless woman and a desperate attraction to whomever she might've encountered.

But if he can keep secrets, so can she and talk of her Grams is off the table.

She purses her lips. "Who are you?"

"Kai?" The barista calls out. They're presented with two insulated coffee cups, both with **CHAI** written in sharpie.

"Thanks for the coffee, _Chai_." She gives him a tight smile and heads for the door. He follows after her.

"Well, technically that's not wrong..."

 **...**

"Ever done an aura reading?"

"It's not really my specialty."

"C'mon…" He drums his hands on his knees, his voice dropping into a husky octave. "I'm itching to pay you for your services in full."

"Then let me do my job and you can."

His eyebrow quirks upwards. "You dying to touch me, Bonnie? That it?"

"Like the grim reaper chasing an immortal," she deadpans.

It's been a slow afternoon. A few people trickled in this morning, sniffed around, and then left without making any purchases, and then in walked Kai. Then again, anytime he visits, the store will empty out and she has to give him her undivided attention. He is paying, after all.

"I heard this place is haunted."

"Only by you."

He heaves a heavy sigh. "What does my aura at least feel like? I've always wondered how I come off to others."

"Oh, I think you know."

He grins, pushes off his legs, and stands. He strides over to the window and dares to lift the curtain with a spindly finger and let sunlight peek into the dark, cavernous room. Like a restless child. But Bonnie's patient. Usually.

"What's your secret?"

"I ate my twin in the womb. It was a whole sharks in utero kind of thing."

"Why won't you let me touch you?"

He drops them back into the red night and spins to face her. His face is the portrait of inspired. "How about you answer my questions, if I answer yours?"

"Fine. Why won't you let me touch you?"

"Pass."

She groans, grits her teeth. If she keeps this up, she'll have to see a dentist about her oral health. He really does grind her gears. "Why do you keep coming here if you won't let me touch you?"

"Maybe one day I'll change my mind."

"But not today?"

"Not today." Sitting back in front of her, he flashes a toothy grin, his tongue wetting his canines. "That's two questions for me now."

She shrugs, crosses her arms. He could do his worst, she's an open book. Sort of.

"Where's your family?"

"Some are in Atlanta, some are in the grave."

"Your parents?"

"My mom left when I was little, so I assume she's dead. Or I like to think she is. After my Grams passed, my father's family took me in since he traveled for business. He died a while back, though. Heart attack."

"You changed your name." Not a question.

She had, opting for Hopkins, her father's surname. "You're easy to find when people know what to look for. And to answer your next question, I haven't been back to Mystic Falls since high school."

"That's probably for the best."

"Mhm."

She nods, images of her old friends clouding her vision. A perky blonde and demure brunette. A blond jock and tanned jerk of a jock. A stupid rivalry between brothers. Every now and then she wonders where they are, how they are? Have they survived this far without her? Doubtful. Her Grams is gone because of them. If and when they all go to hell, she hopes they burn.

"Where'd you go, Bon?"

Kai's voice coaxes Bonnie out of herself, and she blinks back tears. Looks anywhere that isn't in his direction. "Sorry. I make a bad habit of following the white rabbit."

They go quiet again.

"You ever play Uno?" she asks.

"So many times," and she knows he's not exaggerating.

"You know how every deck has a select few wild cards? Yeah, you can get hit with draw more cards or reverse ones or someone changes the color just when you've got a full sweep of reds. But you always want the wild card. You dread someone else getting it, but secretly you want one. Almost more than you want to win."

" _Am I your wild card,_ _Bonnie_?"

"No. But your secrets are."

"You have no idea how wrong you are."

"Only one way to find out..." Leaning forward, she holds out her hands with scarred palms reaching for his face. Their knees still don't touch but he wants to give in, she can tell. His energy is magnetic, pulling her to him, and his eyes are hungry. Her fingertips prickle in anticipation of his stubble exciting her nerve endings. He wants this, but he scoots away from her and peels out of his chair at the last moment.

The room goes cold again, goosebumps polka dotting her flesh.

"My aura, Bonnie." His back remains turned and voice low and like torn skin on gravel. She'd been so close...

She collapses back into her chair. "Frantic. Wild. Your energy is all over the place. It's bold and abrasive. Something you can't ignore, try as you might. A ticking pipe bomb, maybe, or a shifting along a fault line. You can't predict it but you know it's coming. Inevitable."

"What else?"

"There's...something seductive about it. Like, you know how to get your way and all while making the other person think it's their idea." _Tease_ is the word that comes to mind. That's exactly what he is, what he's doing. Baiting her, but if she were being completely honest with herself she'd realize she's already got a hook through her lip. All he has to do is rear back and reel her in.

"And the color?"

It's something oppressive, that's for sure. But not terribly offensive. "Neon lime," she smirks.

"Be serious."

" _Fine_. You don't really have one. Or you have them all. Your aura pulses. It's a strobe light. Enough to be distracting but not too much that you can't drown it out." Then she thinks back to that day in the coffee shop. "Usually."

He nods, still refuses to turn to her.

"Hey..." Experience warns her. Someone who won't show her his true face is always hiding something. "You once asked me if I'm a witch. You know who my Grams is and where I'm from, so - there's your answer. Look, I know you know more than you're letting on."

She stands and this is no longer Bonnie acting. She knows all of this is one-sided. Try as she might, she ends up talking more about herself in these sessions and learning very little about him. Sure, she knows he can cook and has a soft spot for food in general. He's traveled far and wide and doesn't seem keen on slowing down, but she doesn't know where he goes to college, if he goes, or where he works. Where does he get the money to give someone a ninety-some odd dollar tip?

She doesn't even know his last name.

"You came here for a reason. Kai, you come to see _me_ for a reason. What is it? What are you afraid of?"

He doesn't answer, his frame rigid.

"I'm a good listener, if that helps," she adds with a self-conscious chuckle. His silence becomes maddening, so she doesn't care that she spits out the next line. "Otherwise, you're wasting both time and energy. Yours and mine."

He clears his throat, thanks her for the reading, and puts the other half of her fee on his chair. Wordlessly, he leaves.


	3. 3

**Author's Note:** If you made it thus far, then bless you, love! I've always wanted to write a fic that incorporated this _here, here, and here_ concept inspired by the song of the same name by Meg & Dia. I finally found its home. And also, this final segment is firmly **M RATED**. A thanks for the warm welcome back :3

* * *

 **HERE**  
 _3/3_

He doesn't visit _Tilly's_ for a month, and for a while Bonnie's okay with that. Business is steady and Greta fills the void with talk of her new beau, the sweet paramedic with a scary resemblance to a man from Bonnie's past. Soon, though, she begins to imagine things. Scenarios of him walking in the door and what might happen next. How her unwavering insistence will drive him to push her against a wall, knocking plaques askew, and lose his resolve. Finding the wellspring from where his hot heat resonates whenever she's come close to his skin. Having their way with each other on the carpet in her office...

Then come the dreams. They're really more like hallucinations. Sometimes in the middle of the day, sometimes at night.

Visions of her being chased by an unidentifiable monster, her lungs burning and tongue dry, only for the reveal that she's running from Kai. Sometimes she's the one chasing him. Through dark woods, through the snow. He may not even be there in the delusion, but she knows in her gut she's after him. One night, she swears she feels him in the dark laying beside her, no, against her in bed. Him spooning her, the hard outline of his chest pressed to her back, his charged touch painful but has her waking, wanting more. But when she rolls over, he's gone.

Bonnie aches for Kai, and she hates it.

Greta suggests she go out. Dance with people she _can_ touch. Make out with some drunk fratboy. Go home with someone, anyone. "Do something because you are insufferable right now."

She isn't completely off-base. Bonnie has been distracted. Her readings still remain on-fucking-point, yes, but she isn't engaged either. Curtain of her act is being pulled back and a distracted witch is bad for business. Any manner of riff-raff could swoop in. Greta's been doing sage cleansings after every customer nowadays just in case.

"Gret..." Bonnie sloshes her third mimosa in its glass then follows with an eyebrow raise at the woman licking peanut butter off a knife. They've all but ignored whatever plays out on the television in front of them. "You know I can't go off and sleep with some stranger."

"If you won't sublimate, then find him and tell him how you feel!" She kicks her heel into her cousin's thigh across the couch. Throws his advice at her, a dagger. "What's the point in life if you're not being honest?"

"Have you... You haven't talked to him, have you?"

"Please. We're not friends. He's just lived a long life in a short amount of time, so he has lots of stories. But he was always all yours. Besides, Bon." She wiggles her fingers, tips glowing with magic. "You're a witch. So _locate him_."

 **...**

"Locate him?" Bonnie loves Greta but what shitty advice. She'd have to have something of Kai's to make a locator spell work, and that is as much of a problem as not being able to touch him. They'd exchanged money, but bills change hands all the time. He'd touched things around the store, but again so have plenty of other customers.

Greta passed out on the couch, her long legs hanging over the arm, Bonnie slinks to her room. Any idea of a possession he might've left behind goes up in smoke, like her hope.

 _She can't make out much past the glare of the torches positioned around them. The flames flicker wildly as their chanting grows louder. Shadows hover at the edges of the ring, but Bonnie can only concentrate on the hands gripping her own and the pounding in her head. Shit, this hurts but she has to be strong. For Grams, she has to._

 _Out of the shadows, a gust of wind breaks the circle and the lights die. A cacophony of questioning demands rise and fall, and when the flames cackle again the others are gone._

 _"So this is it, huh? Where it happens?"_

 _Kai steps around the dark cave, throws a lingering gaze at the markings on the stone tomb, then eyes Bonnie. She gulps. "_ Here _?" He steps into the same spot Grams stood moments ago. His attention drops to the plump bottom lip being chewed by the girl in front of him. He smirks. "Kinda gloomy down here, don't you think?"_

 _"It actually happens later," she croaks, her throat clenched. Her voice sounds higher in her ears, younger. "She goes to rest at home and...I find her moments after."_

 _"Shame. As mighty as Sheila Bennett was, a spell that was completely_ not _worth doing is the one to undo her. Some friends..."_

 _Her seventeen year old body shivers when his hands stretch out and grasp the ends of her colorful scarf. He steps closer, the fabric wrapping around his twisting wrists. It was chilly that night, she recalls, but heat rises throughout her at his closeness. She becomes aware of parts of her that are so different. Thighs that haven't yet experienced the firm grip of a man's greedy hands. Lips not yet appreciated. The way her spine was always too fluid, too quick to bow. She hates this night so much._

 _The illumination from the torches make his eyes flash, sympathetic and somehow cold at the same time. Her trembling hands find his waist, and she swears she hears him sigh. Her palm settles on a lump in the pocket of his jacket._ _Her violet amethyst crystal from the shop. She holds it by its silver chain in between their faces._

 _"You feeling sleepy, Bonnie?"_

She shoots up in bed, a sheen breaking across her forehead. Her limbs shake with nervous energy but she's got it. His license plate! She'd watched him drive away a number of time in some upscale car and saw his license plate number. Who needs magic when she's got the internet?

Brewing a pot of coffee and hoping to not disturb Greta, she emails an old friend from another lifetime ago. She heard he went into law enforcement, but she's more shocked that he's still alive. An hour later, he responds:

 _I could probably lose my job for this, but you know I'd do anything for you._

 _Love,_

 _Matt_

 _P. S. We miss you. Hope to hear from you soon._

She thinks to shoot back a reply, balk that there are others alive to miss her, but she refrains. Opens the attachment instead. It's a scan of a Portland driver's license. Malachai Parker. Born May of 1972. The picture looks just like Kai, as if it were taken on a day he'd decided to shave but very recently. Not in the 90s like the issued date reads. The plates, though, are registered to an older model sedan manufactured in the 80s. Not the sleek one he drives now.

Matt Donovan also attached a list of known residences. Kai's initial Portland address, which matches his ID. There's a time-jump of about twenty years and then an address in the town a hop, skip, and drive from Mystic Falls. Where Grams' alma mater is. Whitmore College. Bonnie had almost gone to school there but couldn't bear the proximity after everything.

Okay, he definitely knows things. Of the witch and vampire variety.

The email gives her another address and it's a lot closer than half a day's drive. Hell, she could be on his doorstep in five minutes if she leaves right now. So, she does. It's not until she sits behind the wheel of her jeep, idling at the curb in front of the property rented in his name does she begin to question her sanity.

What the hell is she doing? What is she thinking! She's got on fuzzy, white bunny slippers, dark silk shorts, and a black tank top. What exactly is she expecting to happen here? Does she really expect him to finally spill the beans because she showed up on his stoop? Where is her mind?

Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath and thinks back to every single one of her readings.

She has three rules.

She touches her clients, leans forward and places her hands first over their ears. Then presses her fingertips to their temples. Finally she takes one of their hands into her own and puts it to their chest right over their heart.

She mimics this ritual on herself. Cups her ears with her hands, concentrating on how the vacuum sounds like an ocean. Presses her fingertips to her temples and rubs in a backward motion, easing the tension in her head. She places her hand over her heart to steady her intentions.

Next, she asks her clients one question: "Do you want this?"

 _Bonnie, do you want this?_

 **...**

It's three in the morning when she strides up the cobble walkway to the tiny cottage. It doesn't take long for her knocks to be answered, but she can tell she wasn't expected. He rubs his knuckles into his eyes, gazing down at her. "Well, aren't you a squirrel after a nut?"

She shrugs.

"Locator spell?"

"Google."

She then launches herself at him, pushes him into the house, and when his back finally hits a wall she kisses him.

She's stuck by an onslaught of information. An abusive home environment and a mental illness left untreated. Magic practiced by everyone around him – but not by him. He does have a knack for taking other's magic, though. All he needs is skin-to-skin contact. Then the kicker. Murder. Blood and a lot of it. Two bodies strewn over a stairwell, a boy bludgeoned to death. A sibling who was drowned and another gutted with a hunting knife. A circle of witches shouting incantations as Kai crumples to the ground before being tossed into an alternate dimension. A day stuck on repeat and a world all to himself. For years.

She pulls back, the touch of him like electrocution. They stare at each other across his long foyer. Breathing heavily, he smirks. "Have you had enough yet?"

It's a lot to process. The magical mythos and his own experience. A spell powerful enough to create a whole new world, a prison world. But then, Kai... He murdered his family members. His brothers and sisters. They were all just kids. He was just a kid, lacking the proper tools he needed to survive his horrible family, his coven. He wasn't any better than the horror she left behind in Mystic Falls.

There's a shade of disgust in her gut. She glowers at him from where she stands, her hands against the cool of the closed front door. She could leave now. Escape as quickly as she arrived. But... Last she saw he was stuck in that world. How did he get out? She wants to know more.

"No," she breathes and goes to kiss him again. This time he meets her halfway. Picks her up, her ass in his hands, and slams her against the same wall he'd just been. Grinds his growing erection, hard and needy, between her legs. He carries her down the hallway, pauses here and there to press her against the wall and take full advantage of her mouth. Warm, inviting. Her tongue wet with coffee and notes of citrus. She hopes it doesn't bother him that her mind is a little preoccupied. If he knows how to do anything, it's to make a moment last.

Her senses go haywire.

It's bad enough she's being confronted with all these dirty deeds he's kept from her. How another Bennett witch was roped into someone's bidding for the sake of a replica of the cure for vampirism and how that turned into his route out of imprisonment. How high on his list of priorities was to find the witch responsible for supplying the blood needed to activate the spell which put him away but upon finding her long dead and her granddaughter alive, well, he formulated other plans.

No, on top of all that his aura is a barrage of energy bold enough she almost suffocates and he's got hands that won't quit. Loathe to break away from his attentive lips, every gasp of pleasure is swallowed by his mouth. He's got a good grip on her as he weaves through the house, but she clutches his shoulders for dear life. Digs her nails into the meat of his back. His fingers play with the flimsy fabric of her panties before sinking deep into her bringing a wave of lightheadedness, and she's close to passing out. Lucky for her, they make it to his room and he lays her down on his bed.

Their lips separate, but he continues stroking at her core and trails kisses down her neck. "So, this...is _whyyyy_...you didn't want me to touch _ahh_."

He yanks down her camisole and blows warm air, making her nipples pebble. "If we touched, you'd never want me to stop, Bon," he says before flicking his tongue against and sucking at her breast. He's being arrogant but he's not wrong, either. Anticipation of him has fortified itself within her and it'll take a lot more to satisfy her. He seems to sense this thought drift through her mind, because a third finger dives between her folds and a hearty moan escapes her.

"We're going to have to - talk about your twisted, revenge fantasy after this." She bucks against his hand, and he's pleased that she's not averse to the information overload she experienced. Good, because he has more.

" _Bon_..." She shudders as his hand abandons her hot center, and he raises his glistening fingers to her mouth so she can taste herself. "I think we've talked enough for now."

He captures her lips once more, while their hands start to remove their clothes. His body is as muscular as she imagined, and yet more so somehow. Like the month and half she hadn't seen him had been spent in the gym. She's suddenly embarrassed to be kicking off bunny slippers. Then again he just pulled off a vintage Milli Vanilli shirt. Well, vintage to her. She slips out of her shorts and panties and he helps lift her camisole over her head.

Knelt between her knees, he drinks in the image of her taut, squirming body in the dim moonlight. He appreciates what he sees and Bonnie likes that. But a frown forms on his face. She takes a hold of his hand with her own and put it against his chest. "Do you want this?"

His smirk returns. " _Do you_?"

Grabbing him by the ears, she pulls him down and onto her and kisses him because that's all she's thought about for months. Even when with clients, their lips slanted against her own, her mind was on Kai. How his skin might feel against hers, if his heart skipped when she was near to it, if she was on his mind as much as he was on hers. Would his mouth taste like mint or cinnamon (neither, it's cloves)? Had he visited that same coffee shop numerous times hoping to hear her coffee order roll off her tongue?

The images ebb in and out, her mind finally focusing on being here in the now with Kai. He does, however, impart a couple more tidbits. Kai bleeding information out of a blond police officer, without the blood, thankfully. The brunette, for whom Bonnie's distant relative had been tasked to get the cure, remained a vampire. That was Kai's doing, the heel of his boot crushing the large red capsule. A quick alliance with the tawny witch saw the downfall of the two brothers responsible for Gram's death. Knowing all of this now gives Bonnie a sense of sick satisfaction. And she's thankful for it.

She tangles her legs with Kai's and when he thrusts inside her, she knows he's right. She never wants him to stop.

 **...**

"So, the touching in three places? I think you were a little too busy to explain."

Her head resting on his wide chest, she pinches the skin at his ribs and he flinches. "The mind is to get a feel of what the client wants." She reaches up and rubs one of his temples. He hums into her wrist. "The ears are to figure out how the client has been influenced. Nature, nurture sort of thing. What they ingest shapes what they want." She strokes the shell of his ear with the pads of her fingers.

"I think I can guess the heart thing." He grabs her roaming hand and holds it against his chest. "Then the kiss is just a way to steal their memories?"

She scoffs. "No. It helps me get a clearer picture at what energies they're attracting."

"Or maybe you've found a way to make a business of a kissing booth."

" _Maybe_. I do have a customer who visits on a weekly basis."

"Who, little ol' me?"

"Actually, I meant this girl Anna but you count, too. Or, you used to."

His chuckle vibrates the both of them, and Bonnie knows or, at least, hopes this isn't a one-time thing. Because whether or not he intended it, his treatment towards her old friends was an act of solidarity. Retribution for wronged witches. Even if he hated Grams for her part in the things that happened to him, he made sure her death wasn't in vain.

"You never really said… The no-touching was…"

"An experiment in resisting temptation," he admits breezily. "It was one hundred percent for your benefit. The fact that it drove you damn near crazy, well, that was just a bonus."

"Can you show me?"

He gives her hand, which he still has sandwiched between his own and his chest, a quick squeeze. "Only if you really want me to. I mean, I can siphon your magic either way. All I have to do is hold your hand and suddenly your magic becomes mine. _B_ _ut_ I'd rather you want it to happen."

Siphon is the word she kept catching in his memories. Along with "abomination", "freak", "leech", and many colorful others. And, yeah, she gets how that would bother him. A "flaw" that has, through no fault of his own, kept him at an arms distance, while everything around him preached the one thing he didn't have was the one thing he absolutely needed. Until he decided to just take it. And keep taking it.

There is a gravity to this request, despite his nonchalance, and Bonnie doesn't take it lightly. "Do it."

With his eyes cast up at the ceiling and his pillow smelling of Bonnie's hair, a smoky scent with a hint of sage, he sets his jaw. They meet each others' gazes and she gives a tiny nod. Slowly, he draws out her magic. He's careful and controlled and watches her the entire time. Her face goes through a few expressions. Light surprise at the initial sensation, followed by discomfort. It's an electrical pulling but somehow runs deeper, in her marrow. In the neurons of her very cells. Finally, her eyes shutter closed, her fist contorting in pain, and he quits.

Her breath comes in and out in shallow gasps, trying to regulate the rhythm of her lungs, so he waits. When she's leveled out, he wraps his arms around her body and pulls her closer against him. Then, a feeling like static on her nerve endings tickle through her, as if her limbs are waking up after having gone to sleep, and all the magic he took returns.

"I finally have my own generating magic, after having to practically promise my first born away to my twin sister if I dared touch a hair on my coven's head. Which makes no kind of sense. She never even liked being a witch," he rambles hoping to ease the air. "I should probably thank Lucy. That was the witch who helped get me out. She'd gotten in a bad way with a vampire, who then passed her off to some other vampires... There was a mutual scratching of backs. She even convinced my sister, my coven. They never quite trusted me after what I did."

Bonnie eventually looks up at him, her jade eyes shimmering with a mist she blinks away. "You know what they say about dogs and tricks."

He chuckles. "Are you ever going to tell me my fortune?"

She bites her lip. "I...I don't know it," which is a half truth. When she kissed him beyond his past, she only saw her. It was like watching herself on a video she hadn't realized was filmed or snapshots from angles she doesn't normally see in reflections. Her in places she'd yet to visit, smiling for reasons she can't quite grasp.

"Hey, what happened to not changing my future, only being able to tell it?"

For a girl who is always right, the smile that breaks across her face is huge. "I guess I was wrong."


End file.
